


Trustworthy Junior Agent

by burglebezzlement



Category: The Spy Who Dumped Me (2018)
Genre: Exuberant and Unrequited, F/F, Fruit-Based Floral Arrangements, Pining, Spying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-26 06:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17741081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: Morgan decides to step it up.





	Trustworthy Junior Agent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [osprey_archer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box!

**SOMEWHERE IN THE SWISS ALPS**

Morgan kicks against the cliff, launching herself off into space at the end of her climbing rope.

Her stomach swoops like she’s flung herself down the bobsled at Action Park. Like she’s flying and doesn’t ever need to look down. Below her, the valley spreads out against the sky, green trees and dark mountains and the sparkling, glacial blue of the lake.

The sun against her back, the wind in her hair — Morgan spins at the end of the rope and catches up against the cliff face.

She’s about to go for another swing when Audrey’s face peeks up over the ledge above. 

“Can you stop that for a second? You’re shaking the cliff.”

“I can’t be shaking the cliff,” Morgan says, “it’s a really big cliff,” but she stops anyway and pulls herself up to look over the edge. Audrey’s already got the rifle fully assembled.

“That looks amazing,” Morgan says. She never passes up an opportunity to tell Audrey how awesome she is. “You’re so good at this. I could never make a shot this far away.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t know if I can yet either.”

“You totally can.” Morgan lets go, dropping off into space before catching on the rope. “I believe in you!”

Audrey laughs, and then shakes her head. “We’re supposed to look like rock climbers.”

“This is totally what I’d do if I were a rock climber,” Morgan says, swinging back beneath the ledge again.

Morgan lets herself spin around to look back out at the mountains. The sun, the valley below — and the senior Highland agent, sitting at a picnic table, like he’s a normal tourist. Like he’s not an international terrorist. 

The new tracking pellets they’ve been issued should let them tag the agent, just like tagging a shark in the North Atlantic. If everything goes as planned, he’ll just think the mosquitos have gotten more aggressive… and Morgan and Audrey’s organization will be able to trace him back to his terrorist compatriots.

Morgan’s rummaging through her pack, looking for her binoculars, when her phone rings.

It’s a blocked number. Morgan’s heart skips a beat as she accepts the call.

The tones coming through the phone’s speaker are clipped. “Freeman?”

It is her. Their boss, peering into the camera, her glorious beauty barely dimmed by the low-resolution transmission. “Boss” hardly seems an adequate word for this glorious and powerful force of nature. This ascended being.

Morgan knows her name now, but she doesn’t allow it to pass her lips. Somehow it cheapens things, to think of her as merely —

“Is that Wendy?” Audrey looks over the edge of the ledge again. “Hey. We’re just finishing up here.”

“Good,” Wendy says, “but that isn’t why I’m calling.” Her lips are pursed. “I need to talk to Freeman.”

Audrey waves a hand. “You got it. I’ll just be here, making an impossible rifle shot. Don’t mind me.”

“You’re the best,” Morgan says to Audrey, and then she swings herself over away from the ledge and catches another convenient handhold. Best to leave Audrey to get on with things. 

She turns her attention back to her phone. “So what can I do for you, boss?”

“I was wondering if you might have an explanation for this,” Wendy says, turning her camera to face behind herself, to show a large bouquet made of fruit on sticks.

“They got it right!” Morgan grins. “That there is an Edible Arrangement.”

“I’m aware of that,” Wendy says, dryly. “But there are no Edible Arrangements franchises in Scandinavia, and given international restrictions on carrying ten pounds of cut fruit through Customs —”

“That just made it a challenge.” Morgan swings herself to a new handhold. “What do you think? Is it good?” 

“I —” Wendy turns the camera back on herself. “Why would you send this?”

“I wanted to step it up. All your other agents probably send you cat memes already.”

“I assure you, they do not.”

“Really?” Morgan tilts her head. “What kind of memes do they send you?”

“They send me no memes,” Wendy says, impatience in her voice. “A normal agent-Director relationship does not include memes.”

“Really?” Morgan’s grinning so hard, she feels like the Highland agent might be able to see it, far far below. “Are you saying what we have is special?”

“I’m saying your… fruit bouquet… has caused a security alert,” Wendy says impatiently. “How did you do this?”

“Little legwork, little light catfishing.” Morgan shrugs. “The arrangement was the hard part, but my mom’s second cousin Paulie owns the Edible Arrangements franchise over in Manalapan, so I had him send over the skewers and all the training documents they use, and then I found a fruit shop that was willing to work with me, if you know what I mean.”

“I am not concerned about the fruit,” Wendy says. “How did you find our current base of operations?”

And she lets Morgan tell her, which is amazing, because Morgan’s proud of some of this stuff, okay? Anyone can spear phish, but Morgan’s pretty sure the combination of Facebook stalking, deep web connections, and home-made drone surveillance that allowed her to track down the base’s quartermaster is unique.

“—and once I had that, it was easy,” Morgan says, glossing over several days of Google Earth stalking. And the bribe to the Ministry of Food Safety, to get them to overlook the non-EU-approved fruit skewers.

“I see.”

Wendy’s silent for a moment, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

“So do you like it?” Morgan asks, when she can’t wait anymore.

“I believe we should return to the cat memes,” Wendy says, finally. “But your — fruit plot — has exposed several operational security gaps, and for that, I thank you.”

“Really?” Morgan’s heart feels like it’s grown eight sizes, minimum. “I can expose so many more security gaps for you! Where else do you want me to deliver you fruit baskets?”

“No more fruit.” Wendy pauses. “How is your current mission?”

“Going really well.” Morgan turns around and points the camera at the valley and the mountains. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Lovely.” Wendy says it dryly. 

“I was meaning to ask you,” Morgan says. “Do you have a tracking board for the terrorists we tag? Like that website for sharks, where you can see where the sharks have been traveling? Is there a big terrorist board in your HQ, or —”

When she turns the camera back to face herself, she sees that Wendy’s hung up already.

“More Wendy problems?” Audrey asks, from the ledge.

“Hardly problems,” Morgan says. “She got the fruit!”

“Awesome,” Audrey says, sincerely. She doesn't get Morgan's whole Wendy-thing, but she's always been supportive of it. “Hey, can you watch through the binoculars when I take this shot?”

“Anything for you.” Morgan stashes her phone in the pack and takes out the binoculars. Far below them, the Highland agent is taking glasses and a bottle of wine out of his picnic basket. He looks distinctly uncomfortable. 

Audrey makes the shot on her first attempt. (Of course she does. She’s so talented, just like Morgan always tells her.) While Morgan watches, the Highland agent slaps at his calf and then starts arguing with his wife, waving a can of bug spray.

Another mission down, Morgan thinks, as they rappel down the cliff. She can’t wait to see what Wendy gives them next.

 

**FORMERLY TOP-SECRET BASE  
SOMEWHERE IN SCANDINAVIA**

Wendy opens the card again, and reads the untidy scrawl.

_For the most beautiful woman in all of the Government, with respect, admiration, and — if I may be bold — love. I hope this fruit bouquet brightens your day as you have brightened my life. Your trustworthy junior agent, Morgan Freeman._

She steps out into the hallway. “You can let the deliveryman go.”

“Ma’am?” Pritchard looks startled.

“Freeman sent the item in question,” she says. An explanation, maybe as much to herself as to Pritchard. “Sometimes she can be… surprising.”

Back in her office, Wendy pauses, looking at the cheerful arrangement of fruit flowers, incongruously bright.

 _Just one,_ she tells herself, and pulls out a skewer holding a piece of pineapple cut into a flower shape, with a cantaloupe ball for a center. And although she would deny it if anyone asked, a slight smile passes across her face.


End file.
